


With friends like these...

by Conrad_freaking_Verner



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Because who doesn't want to see Happy Victus?, Developing Friendships, Gen, One Shot Collection, Shakarian if you really squint, Victus and Wrex are best buds, post-ME3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 05:59:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11457423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conrad_freaking_Verner/pseuds/Conrad_freaking_Verner
Summary: Victus and Wrex are stranded on Earth, frantically leading reconstruction efforts after the war has ended.Forced to work together to ensure the peace, they eventually discover that they have more in common than they first realized...





	With friends like these...

**Author's Note:**

> So, during the first part of ME3, when both Victus and Wrex are on the Normandy, I was struck with the idea that these two would probably have been good friends, had the history between their people not gotten in the way.
> 
> Then, the idea snowballed from there, since I remembered that both Victus and Wrex are on the ground when you storm the beam, and both most likely survive and are in charge of reconstruction efforts afterwards.
> 
> I’m in the middle of writing/brainstorming a Trilogy re-write/AU, since I’ve headcannoned a lot of how I think the Trilogy should have gone down (because ME3’s ending was terrible and needs to die in a fire, IMO), but since I haven’t gotten all the details hammered out, this is essentially the same as the Destroy ending.
> 
> This’ll essentially be a series of one-shots, but I only have one other chapter planned, so feel free to send me ideas, if you have any!
> 
> I’m just trying to keep things simple as I keep practicing. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated. :)
> 
> Happy reading!

_**“No one would be foolish enough to choose war over peace—in peace, sons bury their fathers, but in war, fathers bury their sons”**_

_**\- Croesus of Lydia** _

* * *

 

Being stranded on Earth wasn’t as glamorous as it sounded.

Adrien surveyed the area dejectedly. London wasn’t the same as Cipritine, but he could see the history etched into the very stone that lined the streets, and he mourned the loss of the life and culture that once thrived there, not even two years ago. The large clock tower—Big Ben, he heard one of the human marines call it—was supposedly a few years shy of being three hundred years old. Cipritine and the historic buildings within its walls were all far older, but then again, turian civilization was far older, as well.

It was such a shame to see the young and bright-eyed humans nearly brought to their knees at the hands of the Reapers.

Being reminded of another young and bright-eyed soul that he lost during the war nearly brought him to his knees. Shaking off the despair and regret, Adrien tiredly trudged through the cold, damp rubble towards the makeshift krogan camp, glancing over at the Reaper corpse that was half sunk in the nearby river.

The efforts to dismantle the inactive Reapers were just as fevered as the war had been. No one knew how the Crucible had stopped them, or if the Reapers were simply inactive, but no one wanted to waste the time needed to figure any of that out—at least, not yet. Garrus had woven a horrific tale of the long-dead Reaper above Mnemosyne, and how it enthralled the scientists within.

No one wanted to watch these old gods dream.

Finally arriving at the krogan camp, Adrien took a moment to steel himself, and strode in purposefully, requesting to speak to Wrex. The sentries at the edge of the camp eyed him distrustfully, but nodded and escorted him inside, anyway. As he walked through the camp, Adrien observed the restless krogan warily. Wrex was keeping them in line for now, but he knew that it’d only be a matter of time until they demanded to go back to Tuchanka—or worse, started picking fights with the cleanup crews.

He found Wrex in the center of the camp, heatedly arguing with another krogan. “I don’t care how much you want to go home. We’ve got a job to do, and I intend to make sure we finish it. Is that clear?”

The young krogan in front of him, plates unmarred from battle, sneered and made a rude-sounding noise. Wrex, exasperated at the whelp’s pathetic whining, snarled and headbutted him, earning a yelp and a glare.

Wrex growled, “If you’re not krogan enough to finish the job, I can ask Victus over here to send some turians over,” nodding towards Adrien. “I’m sure that they’ll be happy to help.”

The young krogan growled for a moment, and then backed down. “I don’t need some damn turian doing my job.”

“Well then, you best get to it. I don’t see you doing anything.”

Victus snorted, and the young krogan stomped away, muttering under his breath. Wrex waved Adrien over, grinning viciously.

“Enjoy the show, Victus?”

Adrien let his mandibles drop into a rueful smile. “Absolutely. It is…fascinating to see you exert your authority, Wrex.”

Wrex huffed and turned, stomping further into the camp, waving for Adrien to follow. “All these damn whelps do is complain about being stranded here on Earth. The genophage may be cured back home, but it won’t do us a damn bit of good unless we get rid of these damn Reapers.”

Victus nodded, solemnly. As far as he was concerned, the krogan had done more than their fair share during the war and deserved to be given an opportunity to be part of the galactic community. And if Wrex stayed in charge of the krogan on Tuchanka, they had a real chance of pulling it off.

Adrien shook himself out of his thoughts, cleared his throat and nodded again. “Indeed. Dismantling the Reapers should be our highest priority.”

Wrex turned to Adrien, suddenly, eyes narrowing in contemplation. “Come to think of it, you must need to get back to Palaven soon. Not much for you dextros to eat out here.”

Adrien shrugged. Garrus had picked up the habit sometime during one of his tours on the Normandy, and it appeared to have rubbed off on him. It was funny, in a way. He—a turian—was standing on Earth, using human body language while talking to a krogan. Maybe there was hope, after all. They had survived and would rebuild. The galaxy would never be the same, but maybe that would be a good thing.

“True. The quarians have been extraordinarily helpful, providing my men with some food, but we were never built to survive on vegetation for long.”

Wrex chuckled, lost in a memory. “Yeah, I remember Garrus mentioning something like that back on the old Normandy. Poor bastard hated the food, even then, and he stayed on the ship anyways.” He shook his head, turning to Adrien with a grin, “But I guess that Shepard made it worth his while eventually.”

Adrien smirked, flicking a mandible out, “I suppose so. It certainly sounded like he enjoyed serving under her.”

That startled a laugh out of Wrex. “Huh. Turns out that Garrus isn’t the only turian that thinks he’s funny.”

Adrien crossed his arms and leaned back on a foot. “He always did say that he was a bad turian. People say the same of me, I hear.”

Wrex simply shook his head and continued walking. Adrien followed, not sure where Wrex was taking him.

After a few minutes of following Wrex in silence, though, Adrien couldn’t take the suspense any longer. “Where are we going? I have many things that need my attention these days.”

Wrex, focusing on the path ahead of them, glanced in Adrien’s direction briefly before answering, “Just figured that you could use some good news. There’s not much going around nowadays, and I know what it’s like to lose a son in battle.”

Adrien froze, stunned. Wrex noticed his absence after a few paces and turned around, a guarded expression on his face. “What? You think that the ancient krogan never managed to sire a son in a thousand years?”

Adrien’s mandibles seemed to be stuck. He worked his jaw for a moment, before rasping out, “You…you know about my son?”

Wrex rolled his eyes; apparently, human mannerisms had rubbed off on him too. “Yup. I was on the Normandy when your bomb mission went down, remember? Hell, I was in the same room.”

Adrien remembered that well. He had assumed that the old krogan didn’t care, but apparently, that wasn’t entirely accurate.

Maybe it was time to let old prejudices die.

He cleared his throat and stood at parade rest. “Hmm. If…you don’t mind me asking, what happened? I’m afraid I don’t know much about your history, aside from your earlier work with the Commander.”

Wrex pinned him with one of his giant, red eyes, seeming to evaluate his request for a moment before snorting and waving him on. “If you really want to know, we should find a place to sit.” Wrex lumbered towards one of the nearby tents, “This damn planet is too cold and wet for me to stand outside and shoot the shit.”

Wrex held the tent flap up for Adrien, ushering him inside. A few of the krogan shuffling around inside seemed surprised to see the two of them, but Wrex made a dismissive hand gesture and made his way over to some crates in the corner. He leaned on one of the sturdier crates, and Adrien sat down, still in a daze.

Wrex stared, still sizing him up, and apparently decided that he wouldn’t find the answers he was looking for without asking. “Why do you want to know? Most don’t. Especially not many turians I’ve met.”

Adrien considered this. Wrex was, by most accounts, still his enemy. The Krogan-Turian alliance had been a tenuous agreement, at best, and had only been forged because the Reapers were a greater threat. He was even mildly concerned about the future regarding the krogan since most seemed mired in the past, clinging to old grudges and demanding revenge. However, looking at Wrex, he felt…a kinship, of sorts. They were both leaders in the face of the bloodiest war in galactic history, and both of them emerged, bloodied and bruised, but just as determined to give their people a future.

Being a leader was lonely, but it didn’t mean you were completely alone.

He rested his elbows on his knees and pinned Wrex with an equally intense gaze. “Not many krogan would admit to noticing that a turian needed to hear good news. Fewer would act on it. I have a feeling that you’re just as bad of a krogan as I am a turian.”

Wrex threw his head back, laughter booming out of him. “Damn. And here I thought that turians didn’t have quads. Takes something to stare a krogan down like that.”

Adrien leaned back into a more comfortable position, no longer feeling defensive. “The last time I checked, I didn’t. Still have the thick skull, though. My late wife was quite fond of mentioning it.”

Wrex chuckled, shaking his head. “Hah. Bakara says the same to me, even though we aren’t bonded the same way you and your wife were. Seems that women are the same across species. Who would’ve thought?” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and Adrien waited, interested in hearing the krogan’s story.

“He was killed the same day I left Tuchanka. I was arguing with this warlord, Jarrod, about going to war after the Rebellions. I had said that our people’s only chance of surviving was to focus on breeding, even if it was only for a single generation. But Jarrod was old and held a grudge for what had been done to our people. He called for a Crush—a meeting on neutral ground—at the Hollows, the sacred resting place of our ancestors, and when it became obvious that I wouldn’t change my mind, he ordered his men to kill me and those that were with me. We were caught off-guard, not prepared for an ambush, since all violence was forbidden there.

“Most of my men were killed immediately, and Jerrod attacked me, directly. After a long and fierce battle, I sank my dagger in his chest, and when I looked up, I saw my son, dead.”

Adrien let out a sympathetic trill for a moment before catching himself. Surely the krogan—

Wrex was giving him an odd look. So he had heard it, then. Wrex continued, undeterred. “I left Tuchanka after speaking with Jerrod’s father—my grandfather. I told him what had happened, and I swore to never return since our people were obviously too far gone to save. I ended up breaking that promise, more than a thousand years later.”

He huffed a short laugh. “Turns out, Shepard has a way of doing the impossible.”

Adrien smiled sadly, “Yes, she did. The Galaxy lost something truly special that day.”

Wrex pushed himself off of the crate abruptly, hurriedly marching out of the tent. “We best be getting to that good news I was telling you about. Neither of us is getting any younger here.”

Adrien was thrown off-balance by Wrex’s sudden departure, but followed him anyway, intrigued at the change of topic. Once outside, though, Wrex was already some distance ahead of him, so he jogged to catch up. He hadn’t seemed to be in a hurry before, so Adrien was baffled at Wrex’s haste.

They continued like that for a short while before rounding a corner and coming up to a small building. It seemed identical to the other buildings around it, but when Adrien looked closer, he noticed the armed marines loitering along the walls, and…that this building had electricity.

Stunned and more than a little confused, he and Wrex made their way up to the front doors before they were stopped by a burly human wielding an assault rifle.

“This is a restricted area. Leave now or—”

“At ease, lieutenant. They’re with me.”

With that, Alliance Admiral Steven Hackett walked through the doors behind the guard, and Adrien wasn’t sure that he’d ever dislodge his mandibles from their spot on his chin. This day just got odder and odder as time went on.

Hackett grinned warmly at the two of them before turning and striding inside. Wrex lumbered in, gesturing for Adrien to follow. Just what did they have in here?

Walking inside was a welcome reprieve from the cold mist that perpetually shrouded the city. The lights were dimmed, but they didn’t hide the nature of the building, nor it’s occupants—all Alliance marines, armed and standing at attention.

After a brisk trek through the dim hallways, Hackett stopped short at one of the doors, turning back to them. This door had guards in front of it, which seemed odd since most of the other rooms they had passed did not have guards posted outside. Wrex turned to him, as well, a smile on his face and hope in his eyes.

Comprehension struck Adrien at that moment, stealing his breath away. It seemed impossible, but…

Shepard had a habit of doing the impossible.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit - 7/12/17: Apparently, someone on the ME kink meme had the same general idea I had about Wrex and Victus having a heart-to-heart about Tarquin. They even gave Wrex a son that got killed when shit with Wrex's dad went down. This fic wasn't inspired by that one, but I can say that it is tons better than mine. It really does deserve a read.
> 
> Old age should burn and rave at close of day: http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/9115.html?thread=44819611#t44819611


End file.
